For the Birds
by Maewen Singer
Summary: Hawke finds herself faced with a decision no one should have to make.
1. Chapter 1

Note from author: I admittedly was left a bit empty after the lack of genuine emotional reactions, most likely a victim of creative restraints, in the confrontation with Anders and company towards the end of Dragon Age 2. My character, Hawke, only seems slightly inconvenienced by the betrayal of a loved one and by the finale seemed to have forgotten about it all together. I was inspired to re-create this scene and if encouraged, carry on the story of Hawke after Kirkwall. At least to satiate myself and hopefully others until the inevitable DLC. Hawke, aside from being a mage and female, will otherwise remain ambiguous. I understand everyone has their own idea of what Hawke would look like and what she would be called so I decided to keep it that way so readers can use their imaginations. Enjoy my musings.

_Prologue_

The ground trembles. A column of light pierces the sky. Mortar and stone are pulled up into a swirling vortex then thrown across the rooftops. The crowd that had gathered at the Chantry steps recovers their bearings to have their eyes fall upon a pile of rubble. Brow furrowed, Hawke turns her gaze to her fellow mage, "Anders…. What have you done?"

Anders turns to a look of scorn he never wished to see upon her face. He lowers his eyes to his toes.

"There can be no compromise."

The Knight Commander, mouth agape turns towards Hawke and her party, "The Grand Cleric, murdered by magic!" They can hear her metal gauntlet strain as it's pulled into a fist. Her words escape in a hiss. "As Knight Commander I invoke the Rite of Annulment. I hereby order every mage in the Circle executed!"

The Grand Enchanter's green eyes widen in horror. "No! You can't do this! We had no part in this atrocity!" He turns towards Hawke, pleading, "You have to convince her. She'll listen to you."

"She will stand with us! She can't possibly defend mages after this! The Chantry! Her mother!" Meredith's eyes fall on Hawke. "You must make your choice Champion of Kirkwall." The title is used as a way to promote guilt rather than a formality.

Hawke stands, mind reeling, her eyes fixed on the hole in the block where the Chantry once stood. "You're asking me to commit to slaughter….", her words directed more at the smoldering remains of the building rather than Meredith.

"I'm _demanding_ that you aid me in eliminating a black mark on this city. Despite being a mage yourself surely you can see that they are a danger to everyone!"

Hawke turns to meet Meredith's icy stare, "No. I cannot agree to this."

The Knight Commander frowns. "Pity…I may have shown you leniency." Meredith motions with her arm, her voice carried into the air, "Come! We will gather the rest of the order and return to see these mages burn for their crimes!"

Orsino and Hawke watch as the Knight Commander and her guard trudge away, the sound of their heavy armor lingering long after they disappeared into the streets. Orsino looks up at the darkened sky and closes his eyes. He shakes his head, "I don't think we can win this war." Lifting the somber expression from his brows he turns to Hawke, "I need to thank you for not abandoning us in our time of need. Maker knows aside from your talent we've given you little reason to stand with us." He lets out a sigh, "For now I'll take my leave and gather my Circle to build a defense against Meredith. Try not to linger." He nods towards Anders, "I'll leave your _friend_ to you."

Orsino heads for the Gallows as Hawke turns towards the decision she'd been avoiding. Anders eyes rise to meet hers. There's a chain reaction. A closed fist connects with a soft cheek. A surprised scream escapes Merrill. Isabella reaches to draw her dagger but is stopped by a firm hand from Aveline and a headshake. Sebastian's eagerness to see the mage beaten translates into a grin across his face. Anders falls to the dirt, blood rushing to the damaged tissue.

"You, you son of a Mabari bitch…you…" Hawke's clenched hand trembles. An outpour of emotion she couldn't express with Orsino or Meredith looking on. They only knew the Champion of Kirkwall. Strip away the title and all that was left was a woman who's heart is as fragile as the next.

Hawke lunges in Ander's direction, but is caught by a set of hefty arms around her waist. Varric's dwarven stature giving him the leverage he needs to left her slightly off her feet. "Calm yourself my lady. Save your fight for the city."

"Let go of Varric or so help me…"

"Yes!" Sebastian exclaims, "Release her and let her tear the mage apart! It's better than he deserves!"

Varric's eyes narrow, "You let your thirst for vengeance get away with you choir boy."

"The Grand Cleric did nothing to deserve her fate!"

"So let the Maker have his divine retribution another time." Varric feels Hawke's muscles relent; his fingers loosen from their grip as she sinks to her knees. "Hawke?" Varric's hand reaches out towards her only to recoil abruptly when she speaks.

"Anders…how could you?" Hawke's head leans back, eyes blurred by tears turning the harsh flames surrounding them into blots of orange. They trace trails down the contours of her cheeks joining the point of her chin before taking their final resting place upon the Hightown stones. "How could you…?" the rest of her words lost in the din of the surrounding chaos.

"I'm sorry it…I told you….".

"Leave…".

Anders eyes peek from beneath a tangle of blonde hair, "What?"

"I said leave.", Hawke swallows the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "Put as much distance between you and Kirkwall. I'll pick up the pieces. I always do. I have to….".

"Thank you. In light… of our history …I never expected you to show me mercy."

"Save your gratitude. You overestimate me. My decision is not based on my feelings for you. Those evaporated with the Chantry."

Sebastian ears burn; his Chantry teachings overwhelmed by his a sense of justified vengeance. "No! Regardless of your standings with this _man_ I cannot let him walk free as long as I am still able to draw a bow. I will return to Starkhaven and bring back with me such an army…"

"I will not make a martyr out of him."

"Perhaps you misunderstood me Champion. I will come back and find you and your _precious_ Anders. I will not allow either of you live until Elthina's death is avenged."

"Do as you wish. If reprisal is what you seek go, bolster your ranks. I'll try to fit your personal vendetta in between this crisis and the next."

Faced with Hawke's stubbornness only seems to encourage Sebastian's resolve. He takes a step forward but finds his path blocked suddenly by the former Tervinter slave, Fenris. "Walk away priest, you do not have the numbers to approach her this day."

Sebastian glares at Fenris only to be challenged by a show of the elf's glowing lyrium tattoos. He turns his attention past Fenris's shoulder to Hawke determined to have the final say, "You'll eat those words Hawke. I will make you choke on them." Sebastian turns on his heel and marches off, the smoke from Kirkwall's fires eventually obscuring the prince from view.

"Hawke…" Anders pushes himself off his knees to his feet.

"Don't…. You no longer have the right to speak my name as if you know me. Run. If you are unfortunate enough to cross my path again I not hesitate to end your miserable existence."

Anders hesitates….

"GO!", her clenched fists erupt into flames before quickly going out. Anders barely hears the following whisper as he begins a slow backwards retreat. "Go…" Hawke listens as his pace quickening to a jog and the sounds of the footfalls disappearing into the distance. She doesn't know how much time passes as she listens to the flames consume the city around her. Only when she feels a hand on her shoulder does she get pulled back to reality.

"Come on now Champion. We have a city to save."

"Varric's right." says Aveline, biting back her own emotions, "We should try to help Kirkwall as much as we can."

"We're here to aid you Hawke. We'll stay by your side until the end." Merrill chips in, pushing visible uncertainty aside for a small smile.

"Just make sure we're all on the boat after we save this ungrateful city's ass." Isabella says with a grin.

Hawke's eyes close as she takes a deep breath, opening them as she exhales. "Thank you but really there's no need to fuss. I'll be alright." Varric's hand weighs heavily on her shoulder; she reaches her own up to give the back of his a reassuring squeeze. As she turns her face up to meet the surly dwarfs' the corner of her mouth forms a weak smile, "Varric, when did you get so tall?"

"That's my girl."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Here it is, Chapter 1 continuing Hawke's story post Kirkwall. I hope it doesn't disappoint. I apologize in advance if it

_Chapter 1_

The soft flutter of turning pages is the only sound that can be heard in the dark shop. A healthy layer of dust is settled on shelves and tables containing a hodgepodge of chipped daggers, bits of jewelry, oddly shaped totems, moldy books, and other items in varying states of disrepair.

"Ouch!" the person sitting at the counter inspects their right hand. A small cut appears across the top of their index finger, left behind by the sharp pages of "The Pursuit of Knowledge". Eyes flick to the shops windows before returning to scrutinize the small injury. With a quick wipe of the thumb the wound has disappeared leaving the finger, as it should be.

A bell sings merrily as the door opens into the shop, kicking up a plume of dust that had been resting upon the floorboards. "Amthan!" a tall man with a graying beard that would put a dwarf to shame walks in carrying a large, oblong object wrapped in burlap over his shoulder. "You'll never guess what I found!"

The scrawny man sitting at the counter closes his book and stands up to greet his friend and employer. "Let me guess Franz, another artifact belonging to a dwarven paragon? Didn't you learn from the last time?"

Franz's mustache puffs up, "Now I got bad information last time and you know it Ammy. It wasn't my fault." He drops the large package on the counter with a bang. "Behold!" he shouts with enthusiasm as he unfurls the burlap wrapping, revealing a dirty but intact blade. "The sword of the Champion of Kirkwall!"

Amthan raises a thin brow, "I'm no expert Franz but wasn't the Champion a mage?"

Franz's eyes blink, "You're daft. The Champion was a warrior!"

"No…she was a mage. An apostate. She carried a staff. Where do you find these leads?"

Franz's eyebrows fall, "Old Franz is a right fool. Always finding worthless junk…" he gives the counter a swift kick causing the sword to jump.

"If we collected valuable items we wouldn't be 'Magpies' now would we?" Amthan says with a smile, which is only answered with a snort from his disgruntled boss. Amthan turns his attention to the blade; gray eyes follow slender fingers as he gently drags them up the length of the sword. He smiles. "I don't believe this is junk at all Franz."

Franz gives Amthan a sideways glance, "You're just saying that to spare my feelings."

Amthan flashes Franz a grin, "Not at all my friend. What you have here is a Qunari blade. These are highly sought after. Qunari never leave their swords. The only way you have this means its owner is no longer in need of it, in other words, very much dead."

The barrel shaped shop owner leans over to get a closer look at the sword lying on the counter. He looks up at his employee, bushy eyebrows raised. "So it's not worthless?"

Amthan shakes his head. "It's no 'Sword of the Champion' but to the right buyer, it should fetch a good price." he beams with folded arms.

Franz grins widely, reaching over the counter and wrapping Amthan in a bear-like hug. "I knew I hired you for something!" his beard scratching Amthan's forehead.

"And here I thought you hired me to sit here and collect dust." Amthan squeaks out, trying to catch his breath.

"I'll take this home with me and polish it up. This thing was lying in a farmer's cow pasture." Franz says, wrapping the sword back up in the burlap. "I trust you can finish up here."

"Don't worry, after two odd years I think I know how to close up the shop." Amthan says with a wrinkled nose and a wipe of his hand on his trousers.

"I know you do Ammy but I worry about you. You're so frail looking, I sometimes think thieves will take advantage and rob the place blind."

"I told you to not underestimate me. I'm a lot tougher than I look."

Franz smiles and gives Amthan a small wave muttering, "…something about a man that can't grow a proper beard." before shutting the door behind him.

Hawke plops down on the stool with a sigh. It got harder and harder to lie to Franz as the months went on. She had become "Amthan" on Isabella's suggestion. Her reasoning being that anyone looking for her wouldn't think twice if she swapped genders. Hawke had foolishly agreed to it at the time without taking into consideration how difficult it would be pose as man for extended periods.

It had been two and a half years since she reached Kassel deep in the harsh lands of Anderfels, choosing the place mainly because it was farthest from the Free Marches she could manage to travel. Having been under constant attack from blights for hundreds of years also kept it relatively quiet and Hawke, for once, was grateful for the occasional darkspawn.

She had settled working at the dinghy shop, "Magpies", after meeting Franz on the Imperial Highway from Minrathous. He had pulled up beside her in a cart loaded to the brim with junk and towed by a rather sickly looking mule. After apologizing profusely for mistaking Amthan for a woman from behind, he declared he'd make up for it by giving "Ammy" a ride as far as he was going. Turn out it was far as she needed.

Along the Lattenflusse, tucked out of the way from any retribution that may come from Kirkwall, she settled in nicely helping Franz with his shop. He allowed her to stay in the apartment above for a small cut of her daily wage. A handful a coppers a week, but she didn't need much more. Before she and her companions left Kirkwall, Varric managed to get a small fortune in coins along with a book, smuggled out of the estate for her. She smiled as she remembered the dwarf who was last to leave her side on the Imperial Highway. He informed her that he was returning to the Free Marches, saying his presence there was of the utmost importance. She didn't ask him to go into the details about his plan, knowing she could trust him to look after her. He was one of the few people left she could trust.

Hawke walked out into the dark street. The river nearby roared, its banks overflowing from the snow that was melting in the mountains to the west. She runs her fingers through her shortly cropped black hair, something she'd done, as part of her knew persona. Looking down the street to her left she takes in the soft glow in the distance, her destination for that evening.

The Comely Maiden was a tavern, and if you knew the right people, a brothel as well. News of the surrounding regions flowed as freely there as the alcohol from the taps. Hawke went there for the information; the beer was a consolation prize. Pulling her thin coat around her tightly, Hawke heads off to the sounds of clinking mugs and merry song.

As Hawke opens the door to The Maiden she's greeted with a warm blast of air and a shriek. "AMMY!" Quick reflexes and a firm hand on the doorjamb keep her from falling backwards out onto the cobbled stones. She looks down at a mess of blond curls burying into her chest, something she's had to contain in tightly wrapped linens. "Hello Hega." Hawke says with a warm smile.

"You haven't come to see me in weeks." The blonde curls fall back revealing the heart-shaped face and rosy cheeks of a girl barely out of her teens. "You know I get bored when you're not around. The other patrons are so beastly."

Hawke laughs, "You know you have more fun with them than you'd ever have with me love. I'm just skin and bones."

"I wouldn't know. You still won't sleep with me."

Hawke gently loosens the girl's grip on her waist and coaxes her inside the warm tavern, taking a seat beside the giant fireplace at the back of the back, near the stairs leading up to the guest rooms. On a crisp fall night like this they were always full of men looking for a drink and a warm bosom.

"So Ammy, do you want a beer? Ollie just got a great one imported from Fereldan." Hega nods in the direction of the bar and the stern looking dwarf behind it. "You're from Fereldan aren't you? Maybe you've had it. It's made with honey."

Hawke smiles "That sounds great. Thank you."

Hega full lips widen into a grin before she hops up and heads towards the bar, layered lace skirts and bouncing behind her. Hawke sits back in her wooden chair and soaks in the atmosphere.

The Comely Maiden had been a staple in the town for as long as anyone knew. It was no secret it doubled as a brothel. Hawke felt they just liked to pretend it was taboo to keep interest peaked. Hega was one of ten other girls working in the establishment and one of the first people Hawke had met when coming to Kassel. The girl was a bit a an assurance for Hawke, thinking she was merely a "pretty boy" rather than a woman in drag and that had put her at ease. If a whore couldn't tell than the disguise had worked better then expected.

Hawke is suddenly roused from her thoughts with a nibble to her earlobe. "Maker's breath! Hega!"

The blond happily giggles, "I tried to get your attention but it seemed you were miles away. I did the only thing I could. Here are your drinks." Hega says dropping a tray on the nearby table with three steel pints. Hawke gives the tankards a quizzically look as froth escapes the rims and spills over the sides. "I only wanted one."

"In case you change your mind."

"Hega…." Hawke says with a groan.

"I'll help you!" Hega exclaims, seating herself on a second chair next to Hawke and grabbing a mug. Hawke watches as she takes a sip, pulling the tankard away from her mouth to reveal a foam mustache. Hega grimaces, "Guess who I am….", she gives a quick glance over her shoulder at the bar before turning her gaze to Hawke. "Hega! You lazy girl! What do I pay you for! Get to work because I'm stupid and have silly ginger hair!"

Hawke lets out a laugh that carries across the tavern, raising a few eyebrows. "That's very good Hega! Just like cranky old Olaf." She downs a mouthful of beer. Honey, just as Hega said. The taste lingers long after the liquid has left her throat. She takes another swig before making an attempt to pry some information out of the young girl. "So, have you heard any news from the other regions?"

"I figured as much. You never want to do anything but talk." Hega says with a frown.

"Maybe it's because I like the sound of your voice." Hawke says with wink.

Hega gives a little smile in response, "Oh, alright, I find it hard to say 'no' to you. It may only be a rumor…" she gives a quick glance around their table and lowers her voice. "The Divine is on the move. Towards the Free Marches."

Hawke leans forward, "The Free Marches? Why?"

"No one knows. Some seem to think that it's to do with the mage rebellion."

Hawke feigns ignorance. "The rebellion?"

"Really Ammy, were you born in the Deep Roads? In Kirkwall, an apostate destroyed the Chantry. It started the uprisings of the Circles in all of lower and mid Thedas. You really need to tell Franz to let you out of the shop more often."

Hawke was aware of the tensions building between mages and the Chantry, specifically their Templars. She had been present when the first punches were thrown, the first spells fired. Even in the desolation of the Anderfels she could not escape the reality of the world she had left behind.

"Ammy?" Hega's voice couples with a look of concern. "Are you alright?"

Hawke smiles reassuringly, "Sorry, I fear this Fereldan beer is going straight to my head." She places the half-empty tankard on the table before pushing herself off the chair.

"Oh, if you're not feeling well you should stay here with me. There's plenty of room in my bed for just the two of us." Hega says with a bat of her long lashes.

Hawke chuckles, "Oh my dear, sweet Hega. I fear I would only disappoint you." She gives Hega's curls a quick toss with her fingers before turning towards the tavern's door. As she pulls open the door she braces herself with a deep breath and steps out into the cold.


End file.
